It Ended in the Elevator
by Kerrison
Summary: Tony & Ziva finally end the conversation they started in the elevator in CLOAK


The elevator car jerked to a halt and Tony stumbled slightly, his balance thrown off by the sudden cessation of the smooth motion.

"Oh no, no no," he grumbled and moved towards the control buttons, jabbing at the floor numbers with frustrated movements.

Ziva sighed, her eyes quickly scanning and analyzing the car, despite having been in it numerous times before. Her instincts were just that – instincts. And her Mossad training kicked in long before her rational brain had a chance to remind her that this was the same elevator she rode daily for the last several years. Nothing had changed since the last few times she was in the the elevator and took stock of her surroundings.

Tony groaned again, smacking his palm against the floor buttons.

The lights in the car blinked out and neither could count to ten before before the emergency lights kicked in bathing the elevator car in a dim glow.

Ziva and slid her backpack from her shoulder, pulling out a bottle of water from the side pouch. She reached inside the bag and removed a second bottle of water. She slid down the wall of the car and took up a comfortable seat on the floor.

"You're making yourself comfortable," he said, turning to her and regarding her casual position on the floor.

"There is no point in wasting our energy. The car will not move until the power comes back on."

He smirked and offered her a lopsided grin before shrugging of his own backpack and sliding down the elevator wall to her side. "Getting lazy in your old age, Ninja?" he teased.

Ziva felt herself grin, knowing the gentle tease for what it was. "Perhaps. Or perhaps just wiser in my uses of energy. I will be sore tomorrow morning after all of that running we did today- I do not need to make it worse by standing for who knows how long waiting for the elevator to move. I will stand when the car is moving again."

"Sore after that run? We barely ran two miles, Ziva. That guy smoked three packs a day; I'm surprised he made it as far as he did before giving himself up – he's the poster child for emphysema."

She flicked him an incredulous look. "You ran two miles in running shoes, Tony. **I **ran two miles in heels!" she replied, lifting her leg slightly to draw attention to her boots.

He didn't need her to point out the boots. He had been keenly aware of the boots since the first day she wore them to work.

The boots had magical powers, he was sure of it.

When she wore the boots, her walk became incredibly distracting.

And her ass, while normally fantastic, had this roundness and lift to it that was unbelievable. It was impossible to take his eyes off of her ass when she wore those boots. And his only consolation was that he had managed to catch both Abby and McGee scoping out her butt, as well, with appreciative glances.

McGee had the good grace to look somewhat embarrassed.

Abby, however, had given him a half shrug, a wink and a knowing smile before returning to the report from the Mass Spec.

"They're nice boots," he managed to say, blinking as she settled her legs again, crossing them at the ankle.

"They are very comfortable. But I do not think they are meant for running in the woods."

"How did you manage to do that without breaking your ankle?" he asked, frowning. "I bet I would have broken something."

"Talent," she replied simply, finally handing him the spare bottle of water she had dug from her bag.

Tony took the bottle and untwisted the lid. Before he could get the bottle to his lips, he paused in thought.

"Ziva," he started, not exactly sure how to proceed.

She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and swallowed her mouthful of water. "Yes?"

"How do I fix us?"

Ziva frowned, her brows furrowing as she shifted to turn her gaze on him. "Fix us?"

Tony shrugged, not able to meet her eyes. "I let you down," he said simply. "And now we're different. We don't ….talk like we used to." He stumbled over the word 'talk', obviously wanting to say 'tease' or 'flirt' but unable to take the risk of rejection.

She shifted away, her gaze falling back to the elevator doors- the doors that refused to open. The doors that refused to let her out of this painful conversation.

He took her silence as permission to elaborate. "There used to be fun, banter, chatter. Gibbs used to have to shut us up. Now, he's gotta send us after AWOLs who jack-rabbit just to get us to spend time together."

"That is not true," she said simply. "I would have spent time with you without the assignment," Ziva offered, her voice soft.

"Really? I never would have guessed. You've been MIA every time we've gone for beers after work."

"You made it clear you were done with me," she said, lifting her chin to rouse what little pride she felt she had left.

"I what?!" His voice cracked and he spun his head towards her, moving quickly enough that he sloshed water out of his bottle.

She closed her eyes before speaking. "You were done pretending, I believe."

"What does that have to do with us!?" He snapped.

"What **US**, Tony?" she snapped back as she spun her head towards his, her eyes sparking with frustration. "There is no **US!**"

He frowned, his voice softening. "Sure there is. Or...there was. Before things got all awkward."

"They are awkward because you said you were done with me. I have given you the space you needed," she replied firmly, returning to her previous position facing away from him.

"I never said I was done with you, Ziva," Tony replied, his voice having dropped to a whisper.

She shrugged and took another swig of water. "It doesn't matter, Tony."

"It matters to me," he said.

"It should not. If that is not what you meant, then that is fine. We can return to our previous ways," she cleared her throat slightly. "What would you like for me to bother you about first? Your many romantic conquests, or your love of over powered foreign cars, or old television shows?"

"You don't bother me, Ziva."

She closed her eyes and let her head rest back against the wall. "What do you want me to say, Tony?"

Tony regarded her body posture with a keen eye and the tension radiating off of her did not go un-noticed. "Nothing," he said simply. "This is my fault. You shouldn't have to say anything."

"No one is at fault. Obviously there is a language barrier or something," she said simply, shrugging off his comment.

"You speak more languages than I can count," Tony replied simply. "This isn't a language barrier. This is the typical DiNozzo arrogance biting me in the ass."

She snickered. "At least it is biting you in one of your finer traits."

He managed a grin, having missed their banter more than anything. "Zi?" he said simply, moving his body ever so slightly closer to hers, their shoulders only an inch apart.

"Mm?"

"I didn't mean I was tired of you," he said, gently bumping her shoulder with his own. "I meant I was tired of pretending for Vance."

"I see," she said with a sigh. She reached up and pulled the clip out of her hair, letting her head fall against the elevator wall without the clip digging into her scalp.

_Not the hair, _he groaned inwardly as he watched the curls tumble down her shoulders.

"I didn't mean for you to think it had to do with you," he added.

"I said 'I see,' Tony. You do not have to -"

Tony cut her off. "I do, Ziva. I do have to," he said in one of the most firm voices she had heard. He wasn't budging on this subject and she wasn't sure she wanted to argue with him. "I want you to know that you're... god, this is going to sound like its from some cheesy 90s chick flick. Ziva, I talk to you more than my family. You, McGee, Gibbs- _you're _my family."

She said nothing, allowing him to continue as she sensed he needed to.

"I love you all- Gibbs is like my dad, except better than my dad. My dad is an asshole. McGee is like the little brother I never had."

Ziva smiled, having long ago figured out the dynamic between the three men in her life. She, too, regarded them as a parental unit and a brother – Tony, however, didn't fit into her family line up.

"And me?"

He snorted with the irony. "You? Ziva, you're where it gets incredibly complicated. I'm pretty sure if I called you family, I'd have to shoot myself. Because there is no way its healthy for me to think about my sister the way I think about you."

Ziva felt her cheeks redden with a slight blush and she quirked her lips. She couldn't help but ask: "You think homicidal thoughts about me?"

Tony turned his gaze to her and smiled, seeing her blush. "Not homicidal. Well, yes, when you're being particularly frustrating. But 99% of the time, they're much less bloody and much more sexy thoughts."

_You can face terrorists, but you won't look him in the eye when he says those sorts of things to you?_ She turned, and met his gaze with her own. "Sexy thoughts?"

"Yeah."

"Is it because I danced like Shakira in front of your desk?" she teased, resting the side of her head against the elevator wall.

"That didn't help things, that's for sure. How, exactly, do you get your hips to do that?"

"I will show you sometime," she replied simply.

Tony simply grinned in reply before he opened his mouth to speak. "I didn't mean I was tired of pretending with you, Ziva."

"You want to keep pretending with me?"

He shook his head. "No. Now that I think about it, I really don't. I'd really just like to tell you how much I love you."

Her eyes widened at his words and her gentle smile was replaced with a look of utter shock. _I was prepared for you to say you want to sleep with me! I was not prepared for **that**!_

"A little too much info?" he asked, his face twisted into a worried look.

She relaxed her features as she blinked twice, letting the shock slip away. "No. It was fine," she said. "I would like to stop pretending to not love you, too."

They both felt the elevator car jerk suddenly and the lights flickered back on as power was regained throughout the NCIS building.

"That would have been a more dramatic conversation if we had sealed that with one steamy passionate kiss, you know," he said, standing and offering Ziva a hand though he knew she didn't _need _it.

She allowed herself to be hauled to her feet as the car began its assent to the bullpen. "If you are free tonight, I am sure I will have enough dinner for two. Would you like to join me?" She looked up at him through her thick lashes, finding herself somewhat shy about the offer. Shy was a new experience for her and she wasn't quite sure what it meant about Tony that he was the first person in thirty years to make her feel that way.

"Depends," he said. "Will you show me that Shakira hip thing?"

She smirked, leaning up on her tip toes and planting a quick chaste kiss on his cheek. "Only if you promise to do the dishes. It is my least favorite chore."

He grinned as the doors slid open and they walked side-by-side to their desks, the angry tension between them that had developed over the last few weeks having disappeared.


End file.
